Murky Green
by DHeiress88
Summary: What was it, Lily wondered as she gazed at the one called Harry, that made the brilliant emerald eyes of her son turn into murky green pools this stranger has? WIP.


**-Murky Green-**

**-By:** DHeiress88-

**Summary: **What was it, Lily wondered as she gazed at the one called Harry, that made the brilliant emerald eyes of her son turn into murky green pools this stranger has? WIP.

**A/N:** Inter-dimensional and time travelling with my own twists and weirdness, no pairings except for those already established in the books, and a very loopy Harry.

* * *

_Murky pools of jade._

He blinked at the figure in front of him, taking in the hunched shoulders and thin, hollowly frame. His eyes traced the faint zigzagging scar half-hidden by rough black fringes and he furrowed his brows as he wondered why that mark on the pale forehead of the person in front of him seems startlingly familiar.

_Murky pools of jade. Murky, disgusting filth._

He eyed the other's attire, narrowing at the filthy, blood-tainted clothes the stranger wore. The garments were tattered, as if the young man—_or was it just grown boy?_— in front of him had been burned and chopped before being put back together again. Their eyes met and he took a step back, startled at the stranger's eyes. The emerald orbs were dull, filled with stark nothing. It was…weird. He had never encountered eyes like that before, so insipid, so lifeless, so—

_Murky. Murky pools of jade. Murky, disgusting filth. Murky lime light._

A small throb started his brain, whispering things—_You once knew him…Don't you remember?—_and he had to close his eyes for a moment to regain his bearings. When he opened them, the dull green-eyed stranger was still there, ostensibly more real than before. He tried saying something, something to break the edgy silence. But the words would not come out, instead his eyes unwillingly inspected the outsider. Ink black hair framed the stranger's face, messy, blood-matted hair that he instinctively guessed to have been once vibrant.

_Murky pools of jade. Murky, disgusting filth. Murky lime light. Murky crimson blood._

He took another step back and hissed when the stranger also stepped backward.

It was only then, when his frown met an equal frown and his eyes crossed with murky green eyes, that he realized he'd been standing in front of a mirror.

* * *

"I should have died."

There they were again, the remorse and isolation, pounding against her chest, restricting her ability to breathe. Lily dropped her face into her shaking palms, trying to stop her sobs, trying to tell herself that it had been _years_ and she should not be doing this anymore.

But it didn't help. Her sobs, though muffled, continued; her memories, though muted, replayed the events of _that night_ years ago as if it had been yesterday and her feelings, though unspoken, screamed for her to still mourn both the husband she fought for and the son she didn't have the chance to know.

"I should have died with you. I should have died protecting you." she whispered as her left hand, which contained the finger where her wedding ring still lay, traced the two marble plaques that signified what she cherished and lost.

Lily closed her eyes, shutting her bright emerald eyes from the world, before imagining how it would be if that night didn't happen.

She could picture James as James, only older in appearance but never in behavior. He would enfold her in his arms and whisper sweet assurances in her ears. And Harry. Harry, with the mischievous grin inherited from his father, would have been five and learning how to use magic.

The red-haired witch opened her eyes but the warmth of her dream didn't manage to trickle unto reality, leaving her chilly and a few moments from tears.

A loud crack echoed within the graveyard, its source just behind Lily. She furiously wiped the unshed tears away, knowing who her visitor was without looking. A familiar hand landed on her left shoulder, squeezing it in consolation. She rested her right hand on the appendage on her shoulder and clutched back in thanks.

Lily turned around and smiled. "Thank you, Sirius." she whispered. Sirius nodded, his grey eyes betraying his pain and fatigue.

Sirius Black, her husband's best friend, her son's godfather, the one almost chucked into Azkaban for Pettigrew's crimes. He sent a quick, small smile at her before his eyes strayed to the two gravestones in front of them.

Under the setting sun, Lily could see the shadows that haunted the man, the same shadows that haunted her while awake and dreaming. She bowed her head and the both of them remained silent as they had always done for the past four years.

Time had tried healing them, but it only managed to cover their wounds with fragile, deceptive scabs.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore didn't know what to think.

He turned back to the pensieve and the memory he'd been viewing before he felt that strange sensation and frowned. There had been a…shift in the air. An odd disturbance among the magical current in Hogwarts. Something that he knew that wasn't in either his or Tom's plans.

_It was as if something that wasn't here, but was supposed to be, came back. Question is…_

He dragged out this moment from his memory and let it join the hundreds he collected.

…_what was that?_

* * *

_Perhaps, _Severus' mind whispered to him, _the Ladies of Fate have a grudge against me._

No particular event forced him to reach such theory but if the happenings during his whole life were to go by, Severus has a valid reason.

He quietly walked down the castle's hallways, with the sunlight and light breezes that trickled in from the windows souring his mood further. Since the Dark Lord's sudden withdrawal, Dumbledore has been too eager to have a scrap of news from him. And the constant asking irritates Severus because there simply was _no_ news. As a strong gust of wind bothered his hair from its confines, the Potions Master cursed again this blasted happy weather that the heavens casted today.

Severus continued his trudging march, refusing to even think about his double spying because _that_ will lead to his reasons and then he will be reminded of green eyes and red hair. He briefly mourned the fact that no Gryffindors were here to take House points from as doing that always alleviate his stress. Of course, he was aware that there were no students at all in Hogwarts since the tear hadn't started yet, _but—_

A shadow entered his field of vision and he halted. _Filch? _No, no, the clothes could have been Filch's but that frustratingly familiar messy hair—

"_Potter?"_ Severus asked, incredulous and snapping at the same time. It was impossible—_Potter?—_

he died years ago—_it would have been—_his thoughts were jumbled and he was much relieved when the figure started turning towards him, stopping him from stuttering questions whose answer he really didn't want to hear—

James 'bullying-toerag' Potter—or rather, a seventeen-year old carbon copy of Severus' nemesis—faced him.

He wondered for a moment if this was Potter's revenge, haunting him, but the thought was banished by another warning bell in his mind.

_Polyjuice Potion. Glamour—_

In an instant, Severus had his wand on the other's throat, digging its tip unto the boy's flesh.

"Who are you?" he hissed, but the teen only blinked at him—

_Clearly, _a crisp voice noted in his head as he stared , shocked and grudgingly intrigued at emerald orbs so much like Lily's but so different at the same time, _the Ladies of Fate have something against me._

* * *

It had been days—_or was it just minutes, seconds?—_since he became aware of what he had become—_a filthy, blood-covered being with matching murky green eyes—_and now, he was wandering aimlessly along vast corridors.

Blink.

—_running late for class…_

_Walking down slowly, talking about a teacher and a stone—_

Blink.

He thought he heard someone spoke, and was proved right when he turned to his left and saw a figure clad in black staring at him. The man in the black robes had greasy black hair and bottomless black eyes—

"Who are you?" the man, _suddenly_ _so_ _close now_, asked in a hissing voice that he already heard somewhere, sometime.

Blink.

_He glared at the obsidian eyes that he hated and hated him in return—_

—_a command of a dying man—_

"…_Look…at…me…"_

Blink.

* * *

A sharp knock and Minerva's terse call of his name snapped Albus from his reverie. He shook his head and stepped away from the pensieve just as Minerva moved in the room. His Deputy Headmistress was panting, a thing he hadn't seen since her younger days. He met her eyes, and Albus frowned, reading the panic and confusion there but he have no idea as to why they were there.

"Minerva?" he gently prodded. The woman calmed herself and Albus began to see other things aside her initial reaction.

"What happened?" asked he as he walked towards the witch.

"There…we—Severus—" she broke off to breathe deeply and suddenly Albus was struck by an inkling.

_That thing, that influx of power moments ago._

But nothing is different, Albus thought, no wards were broken or breached, no portraits or ghosts reporting to him of anything that hints Tom's presence or work.

"We have a visitor, Albus." Minerva wheezed aloud.

* * *

**A/N: **First HP fic, please report any mistakes or loopholes you noticed. There will be no somebodyxLily, or slash or het. Not that I don't like it but because it is just not in the story. Constructive criticisms are very much welcomed! Please read and review!

Look for me at LJ: dreamsoverdeath . livejournal . com

**-DH88**


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